


how late it was, how late

by TungstenCat



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Feels, Dead Apostle AU, F/F, It Gets Better, Post-post-UBW, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29892816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TungstenCat/pseuds/TungstenCat
Summary: There are countless worlds within the swirling infinities of the Kaleidoscope. In some, Luviagelita Edelfelt led her wolves to glory and retired to a grand old age. In some, Rin Tohsaka won the War, saved her sister and found the peace that had long eluded her.“I think I hate her,” grumbled Rin, crimson eyes staring up at the autumn moon.Or, a conversation shared along the midnight path.
Relationships: Luvia Edelfelt/Tohsaka Rin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	how late it was, how late

Heavy mist swirled around Angharad Owain as she picked her way through the gnarled roots and thorns of the midnight forest. Each gust of freezing wind blew more of it in her face, and each breath sucked more of its chill down into her lungs. Even to her Reinforced eyes, the branches of ashy trees were barely visible, let alone the pale autumn moon that had accompanied her along a trail long since lost to gloom.

It was an unnatural fog, and a dangerous one.

Forcing down the dread prickling her spine, she picked up Grandfather's mana compass from its place around her neck, hung on a golden chain. The needle spun in a lazy arc. Only the smallest of red sparks danced on its point when it gave the occasional jerk in one direction or the other.

Angharad sighed and let the compass drop back against her chest. Such devices had been far more useful in the old man's days, before the Descent had turned everything on its head. The mana leaking back into the world created so much background noise that the compass only reacted consistently to the strongest magical signals.

No matter. Even if she couldn't use it to track the vampire, Grandfather's gift had already saved her from more than a dozen traps and wards. The compass had guided her through the pernicious bounded field at the forest entrance, kept her strides true even as her senses were subtly but mercilessly muddled. The flash of its needle had warned her from the ensnaring rune placed under a seemingly abandoned jacket. It had revealed the jade bird high among the faded branches in time for Angharad to snipe it before it could betray her to its mistress. And it would spin and crackle in lethal accusation when she finally closed with her quarry.

Carrying the compass was a comfort, too. A physical proof of her family's legacy and the powerful blood that ran through her veins. _Proud_ blood, whatever those assholes from Policies said.

She kicked viciously at a fallen log, finding satisfaction in the wood splintering and cracking under her foot. Then she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.

_Calm down. Breathe._ The flame of her anger gradually dimmed to a manageable flicker. _You want to show them all you're Enforcer material, right?_

Dead leaves crunched underfoot as she shouldered her way through the underbrush.

_Keep your head in the game, Ani. Or the Red Lady will rip it off for you._

Shivering, she forced a little more mana through her circuits to fortify the spell wrapping her in silence. Senses on high alert, she plunged through the clouds of gray mist, hoping to pick out some trace of the vampire's presence.

_Nothing_. Just the taste of damp air on her tongue, and the distant whisper of night birds on the wing. That normalcy made Angrahad feel a little better despite herself. This was something she could handle solo, so long as she kept her wits about her. This wasn't like the dreaded Forest of Ainnash, with its stabbing branches and bloodthirsty roots.

An indignant part of her wished it _was_. Maybe then the Enforcers would have taken her more seriously when she'd banged her fist on their table and declared—

_Enough!_ She grit her teeth and marched on. _Focus, goddamnit!_

The vision still lingered though, their stony faces cracked in shock as she slapped down the Red Lady's clothes in front of them, still coated in ash. It made Angharad grin.

Some time later - it felt like hours, but time slipped away in the eldritch fog - the compass jerked against her chest. Blood quickening in anticipation ( _not_ fear, she wouldn't allow it), she held it up. Sparks shot up and down the needle as it pointed towards a particularly thick cluster of trees, so big and dark they were visible even through the fog.

_Something's there._ Sweat beaded on her forehead before she brushed it away. _Something bigger than explosive runes and petty familiars. Looks like she's also tired of this chase._

With a curl of lips that was half-grin and half-grimace, Angrahan drew her other Mystic Code. The silver blade felt reassuringly heavy in her grip.

_Even this damned fog can't rob Golau lleuad of its power. Not when the full moon shines above me._

Carefully she circled the thicket, taking care to tread lightly on the dead leaves despite the magic quieting her footfalls. The red sparks hissed and snapped along the compass' golden disc as she crept closer. The branches rustled and caught in the wind. For a moment Angrahan thought she spotted something stirring between them, a suggestion of swirling scales and wicked talons shaped from mist.

_A guardian spirit…?_ Her heart caught in her throat before she forced it back down. _No, just a familiar formed of materialized Wind. Dangerous, but nothing I can't handle._

Eyes fixed on the billowing serpent, Agrahan moved swiftly over the forest floor. Lightning crackled over the compass and bit at her fingers. She shook it off and focused on the faintly glowing orb at the apparition's centre.

_One blow. You can do this in one blow._ Letting the compass drop, she took up her blade in both hands. _Cleave the core in two, before it ever sees you coming._

A last breath to shake the ice from her belly, then Angrahan charged—

— and her foot crashed through a thin carpet of leaves into empty space.

Darkness swallowed Angrahan's scream as she fell down the pit. Helpless, she saw a stone floor rush up to meet her. Then a bone-rattling impact and _pain_ , so much pain.

Black stars exploded behind her eyes and swallowed her whole.

* * *

The mist was gone when Angrahan woke again. There was nothing but cold sweat soaking her brow and an agonizing ache suffusing her body. Every breath felt like razor wire in her lungs, sharp little jabs that made her want to cry out.

Moonlight filtered down from the maw of the pit, just enough to make out the impression of brick walls. They looked hard and cold, as cold as the freezing stone pressing into her back. It took a few awful moments before Angrahan mastered herself enough to try sitting up. Pain flared through her left arm the instant she tried to move it, bright and sharp. She helplessly jerked with that pain, then gasped when her legs echoed it. They burned like they'd been dipped in fire.

_Broken. Fuck, gotta be broken—!_ A whimper escaped her throat before she could swallow it down. _Stop, Ani, stop. Don't panic_.

Easier said than done, with hurt and terror rising like a black tide to drown her.

_You're alive. Alive._ She whispered the mantra through the iron taste in her mouth. _Not done yet. So you gotta take stock._

Forcing a deep breath past the fire in her lungs, she tried to ease herself up—

"I wouldn't if I were you. Not until you've taken that spike out of your shoulder, anyway," spoke a feminine voice at her side.

Angrahad froze.

"That was a bad fall," the other continued, almost companionably. "Probably a fatal one, without your Magic Crest to keep you alive."

Slowly and painfully, as if her head slid along her neck on rusty cogs, Angrahad shifted to look at the woman sitting next to her. Fear seized her chest when she took in crimson eyes and long black hair, a coat mottled gray by moonlight.

"You…" she choked out from between bleeding lips.

Grandfather's compass shone in the Red Lady's hand. The vampire was tilting it this way and that as the needle blazed and spun furiously in her direction.

"Me," she sighed, but did not look away from the device.

Angrahad seized the opportunity to desperately scan the stone floor of the pit, swallowing down the burst of pain caused by craning her neck. Metal spikes pointing upwards, loose sticks and stones. Her blade was nowhere in sight.

"A mana compass is useful, but you can't let it distract you." The Red Lady clicked her tongue. "Not that I really blame you. With magical threats looming, it's easy to forget about the mundane ones."

The sticks looked too fragile to serve as weapons, even reinforced. But maybe one of the stones, if she could get a good hit in.

Angrahad glanced back to find the vampire turned in her direction, one hand raised in a lecturing gesture. But she seemed to be looking right through the magus, and her voice was oddly gentle rather than mocking.

"Martial arts, guns, explosives …" the Red Lady drew a deep sigh, "... demagogues. If only I'd been paying more attention in Algeria, maybe… maybe things would have turned out differently."

Whatever. Angrahad wasn't going to waste time figuring out what was on the bloodsucker's mind. She was getting out of here, and that meant fixing herself up while her enemy was distracted.

Closing her eyes, she pulled hard on her magic circuits. A small sting of discomfort, then sweet relief as mana flooded through her limbs as her broken body slowly knit back together.

Only for the spell to fizzle when the vampire's hand clamped hard on her shoulder, just above the impaling spike. Angrahad screamed and thrashed as the magic backfired and burned her circuits.

"Sorry, but I can't let you do that."

The magus writhed a moment more, then lay still. She shivered, the heat draining out of her body along with the blood from her shoulder.

"A good effort, though." Through the cold sweat dripping into her eyes, Angrahad could make out red eyes peering down at her with interest. "Was that a variation of _Iachâd hallt_? Solid, but it would take you at least a minute of concentrated effort before you could stand, let alone walk."

_I don't need to stand. I only need enough to strangle you,_ snarled Angrahad inwardly as she glared up at the vampire.

Her expression must have made her thoughts clear, for the vampire sighed and put the compass aside.

"I understand. It's not really the kind of situation where you want to compare theories, is it?" She shifted to fully lock eyes with Angrahad, icy red meeting hazel. The cat-like sharpness of the pupils made the magus shudder. "Then I'll cut to the chase. Who sent you?"

A wave of dizziness washed over Angrahad, her head pounding and her breath thick in her throat. What she could still grab from her training told her she should be coming up with some sort of plan. Some lie or trick to hold the enemy's attention and draw things out a little longer. Give herself a chance at an opening, or failing that, rescue.

Pain and exhaustion bled the notion away. What did it matter? She was here alone, and she was going to die alone. Might as well tell the damn vampire. Everyone had already had a good laugh at Angrahad. What was one more to send her on her way?

"N-nobody," she rasped, then horked out a mouthful of bloody spit.

The Red Lady's nose crinkled but she said nothing, only waited for Angrahad to continue. It figured that a fucking Dead Apostle would be the first person in years to let her get a word in edgewise. She might have laughed if her legs didn't hurt so badly.

"Wanted to m-make a name for myself..." she said instead, almost retching on the rest of the blood in her mouth. Her shoulder hurt like a bitch. "That's all."

The Red Lady's gaze was unsettling in its intensity as it searched her face. _Oh god_ , was the vampire licking her lips?

_Fuck. She must be hungry._ The magus' hands clenched atop the stone floor. _I'm so goddamn screwed._

Then the vampire settled back on her haunches, and Angrahad could breathe again.

"And what name is that?" asked the Red Lady, arching a brow.

"An… ahh… Angrahad ferch Owain," she said, willing pride into her voice despite her dire state. "Of the Abertawe branch."

The vampire nodded, her expression otherwise unreadable. The crimson eyes drifted up towards the mouth of the pit, and again her gaze turned distant.

It was probably hopeless, but Angrahad had to try anyway. Maybe she could still manage a fire shot. But she had barely raised her hand when the vampire gave her shoulder a warning squeeze. Gentler this time, but the message was clear. The magus reluctantly let her arm drop.

"So you wanted to kill me and bring back my ashes as a trophy," mused the Red Lady, idly tapping her fingers on her knee. "Well, that may be true. Then again, it might not. Either way, your time is drawing short."

Angrahan grit her teeth in helpless anger as the vampire stood up and brushed the dust off her coat.

"Any last request?" said the Red Lady, rolling up her left sleeve. Bluish-green light spilled from the Magic Crest inscribed on her arm.

"Y-yeah…" rasped Angrahan, curling her lip up in a wolf's grin. " _Cer i'r diawl_ , you b-bloodsucking bitch."

"Not bad. I give it a seven," the Red Lady answered with a grin of her own.

Then all humour drained from the vampire's face. Her lips pressed into a grim line as she pointed a finger down at Angrabad. Icy blue energy crackled at the tip.

_This is it, then_. _Fuck, what a sorry end._

"There's no need to glare like that," said the vampire. "Remember, you came to kill me if you could."

Balling her hands into fists, Angrahad forced herself to look straight at the energy bullet. If nothing else, she could die well.

" _Prinzessin der verurteilung!_ " The harsh syllables cut through the pounding of her heart. " _Trennen!"_

The spell hit Angrahan like a scalpel rather than a hammer, with a terrible impression of darkness slicing through her mind. Severing the strands of her thoughts, one by one, with cold finality.

She couldn't move. She couldn't scream. Another strand fell away, taking the panic with it. She felt numb, but not in an unpleasant way.

Why should she be screaming? This was fine.

It was just fine.

* * *

The last tendrils of mist clung to Luvia's shoulders, then dropped off as she stepped from between the trees onto the earth track leading up to the modest stone house.

She allowed herself a small sigh as she smoothed over her travel dress. It was always such a journey to get here, and not aided by the heavy bag slung over her shoulder. In any other circumstance, both propriety and comfort would demand that she have her butler Järvinen carry it. But she always visited this house alone.

Passing under the dark branches of the sentinel trees lining the path, Luvia approvingly noted the glittering eyes shining down at her from the foliage. That was a new addition, as was the tingle of a second bounded field washing over her skin.

Still not enough, given what Luvia had learnt down in the village earlier that day.

Sighing, she paused before the house's entrance to lightly comb her fingers through her hair. No matter how many times she walked through this forest — she could have done it blindfolded and starving now — some stray leaves always managed to tangle themselves in her curls. It was really quite tiresome, but not enough to forego correction.

A noble must always look their best, even if she could already imagine the spiteful twist of her host's mouth. _Who are you even trying to impress out here, princess? Sparrows and rabbits?_

Luvia smiled despite everything as she pressed a hand on the oak door. Runes briefly glowed to life and slid along her fingers, mapping them out. Then the door creaked open and let her pass into the main hall.

It didn't take long to find Rin. When her host failed to greet her at the door, Luvia simply strode the short distance to the library. Sure enough, the woman was hunched over a pile of books, horn-rimmed glasses perched on her nose and an air of great concentration on her face.

That concentration had once been almost legendary among their peers. Fortunately, Luvia had an equally famous talent for shattering it.

"Ohohoho! What terrible manners not to greet your guest at the door, Tohsaka Rin!"

Amusement bubbled through her when crimson eyes flicked irritably in her direction.

"You're not a guest," groused Rin, though it didn't hide the smile threatening to pull at the corners of her mouth. "You're a necessary evil."

She slid her glasses off and gestured at the chair next to her. Even if there were no other seats in the room, the invitation was still pleasant.

Or so Luvia thought, only for Rin's fingers to close around her bag the moment she set it down on the table.

"I'll take that, then," said the other Apostle.

"Not even offering to take my coat before pouncing on the goods?" Luvia clicked her tongue. "Still a barbarian at heart."

"Oh?" drawled Rin as she drew out a padded box and opened it, smiling at the sapphires inside. "Then I won't bother making tea. I'm sure a barbarian would have nothing to suit the tastes of such a _refined_ palette."

"As usual, you are quite mistaken—if only because I am generous enough to supply you." Luvia smirked. "The wuyi oolong blend, if you please.

Huffing, Rin rose to her feet. "Sorry for being such an imposition, _princess_ ," she said with the hint of a smirk, and it was all Luvia could do to hold back a giggle. "Shall I start up a greenhouse so I can grow my own leaves, then?"

Snapping the box shut, Rin hauled the bag to one of the nearby shelves. She would unpack the gemstones and reagents later.

"Please, no," said Luvia and waved a hand. "Good manners would demand I sully my lips with the resulting concoction, however unpleasant."

It was so easy to let herself get pulled into Rin's rhythm, the trading of little quips that had long since lost all heat. So easy to sit back and pretend things could go on like this.

"Tch, picky," said Rin, shooting her a glare as she returned to clear the books off the table. "I'll make sure to add sweetener, then. A few spoonfuls of arsenic should do the trick."

That brought her close enough for Luvia to make a proper assessment. The color in her cheeks was good, and her movements smoother than during her last visit. At least she'd drunk some of the girl's blood instead of letting it go to waste. A thin silver lining to the fiasco.

"I'm only kidding, Luvia." Rin sighed and pressed a finger to her temple, apparently misreading the blonde's deepening frown. "I still have that Cuban sugar you like so much. Just wait here, and try not to sneer too much at the decor."

With that, the other magus left for the kitchen. Luvia settled back in her chair and resisted the urge to pick at a loose thread on her sleeve. The thing was, she reflected idly, that Rin probably _would_ grow good tea. Perhaps a few unfortunate early batches, but mellowing into excellence once she mastered the art. Like everything else the girl—woman—did, once her blood was up and her pride on the line.

_Stubborn as a bull reindeer_. Luvia had always admired that in her, even if it had also infuriated her in their younger days.

Folding her hands in her lap, she let her gaze stray over the packed bookshelves. Books and treatises worth more than the entire house that held them, delicate crystals, embossed scales and fine calipers. Luvia still didn't miss the mana compass tucked away on a high ledge.

Owain's compass.

Luvia closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. She couldn't put the matter off much longer, even if it would sour the visit.

She turned possible approaches over in her mind until a clink of china caught her attention. Rin balanced a tea tray in one hand while she carried a briefcase in the other. She placed the first on one side, then slid the second across to Luvia.

"Splendid," said the Edelfelt heiress. She tucked the briefcase under the table so it would be out of the way, then looked at the tray. There was a small flutter in her chest—fortunately easily crushed— when she recognized Rin's best tea set. "A single sugar, please."

"Yes, yes, I remember," huffed the other. "How you can stand to drink it so bitter, I'll never know. A little more sweetness wouldn't kill you."

"I could say the same for you."

"Shut up." Rin motioned below the table. "Aren't you going to check the research reports? Make sure you're getting your money's worth."

"No need," said Luvia loftily. "You have yet to disappoint, and I know you won't now. Your pride will not allow it."

A smile crept over her lips as she watched Rin huff and pour tea, obviously pleased under her bluster. It came with a sharp pang in her heart as she reflected how much pride had cost them both.

_Pride and legacies_. Luvia glanced at the compass again, and her expression hardened.

"Have you heard the latest gossip down in Halkirk, Rin?"

Rin pursed her lips as she handed Luvia her tea. "No, I'm satisfied here with my research. What the townspeople do is none of my concern."

Luvia took a sip—delicious, but she wouldn't let herself be distracted—and set her cup down firmly on the saucer. "Curious things have been happening in the woods, they say."

"Is that so?" said Rin, idly twisting a lock of hair around one finger.

"Mists so thick one can hardly see, even in the height of summer. Deer that abruptly stop and turn tail, right into the hunter's gun."

Luvia leaned a shade forward and looked Rin straight in the eye.

"A young woman was brought to the hospital last week, after she was found by the old bridge. Badly bruised with a broken shoulder, and with confusion likely caused by head injury. Nothing that might not befall a very unwise or a very unlucky tourist." Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Yet it set the nursing staff to talking. The woman did not seem the type, they said."

"The forest trails get very dark here on autumn nights," said Rin, picking up her cup. "Thank you for your concern, Luvia. I'll be extra careful on my evening strolls."

Luvia didn't thump her hand on the table, but it was a near thing. "That was Angrahad ferch Owain, an aspiring member of the Enforcers. Operating outside the bounds of her assignments, perhaps. But certainly not without eyes on her, whatever she thought."

Rin shook her head. "These young magi, always poking fingers in dark corners and getting them bitten. There's no point in Mysteries recovering after the Descent if people insist on harnessing them so poorly-"

"You should have killed her, Rin."

There was only the slightest hitch of breath at these words, a twitch of graceful fingers on the ceramic handle. But Luvia had a sharp eye for emotional tells, and after all these years, Rin was an open book to her.

_Still too soft, even after everything._ It made Luvia both want to shove her into the fire to burn that fatal softness away, and wrap her up so it could shine in her eyes a little longer. Given Luvia's dismal record so far, she already knew which she would end up choosing. Still, _noblesse oblige—_ she had to try and make her once-rival see sense.

So she kept her gaze hard as Rin shifted in her seat.

"It wasn't necessary," said the other after a moment. "And a missing persons report would raise more questions."

"Do not delude yourself. The Association would simply dismiss her as an overly ambitious pup and lose interest, so long as she brought back nothing new. Nothing to be confirmed or denied." She steepled her hands under her chin and sighed. "Now that she be will returning with evidence, even if in patches—"

"She won't remember much!" said Rin defensively.

"But she'll remember _something_ ," Luvia persisted, and pinched her brow. "And she will tell someone sooner or later, despite her wounded pride. That _will_ filter through the spiderweb." She shot Rin a severe look. The other glancing away gave her little satisfaction. "You may have developed a talent for memory alteration, but we both know such magic is never without cracks."

"It's fine," grumbled Rin, although she still wouldn't meet the blonde's eyes. "I don't spare all of them, anyway."

"You shouldn't spare _any_ of them." Luvia had been chosen over her sister as heiress of Edelfelt in part for the steel she could command, and she injected every shard into her voice now. "Whispers of the Red Lady echo around the Clocktower's halls only because of your tender heart. If you insist on leaving bits of clues and memories scattered about, it is only a matter of time until Saward comes for you. Or worse, the Burial Agency."

"You walk around that campus _openly_ ," said Rin sullenly, pointing an accusing finger at Luvia's own scarlet eyes, "and you don't worry about it."

Luvia could see the girl from the Norwich Dormitories in that pout, the one she might have become fast friends with if not for the thorny matter of lineage. For a moment, she could even see crystal blue eyes instead of dulled red.

Then she blew out her cheeks and forced the vision away. One of them had to deal in realities.

"I do worry. All the time," said Luvia quietly in a confession she would never have made to her retainers. "But I have systems in place to protect me. The might of the Edelfelt clan, the legacy of the Wizard Marshall… and a place in the political web where removing me would upset too many delicate balances."

A weak snort echoed from across the table.

"Even so, I sleep with one eye open," she continued, relentless. "You, however, have chosen to isolate yourself. You have no family or servants to protect you, no place in the hierarchy to give you value. All this while sitting on a vast amount of magical knowledge."

"Hah!" said the other, seizing on the last part with a forced smirk. "So you're admitting my genius—"

"That's neither here nor there, Rin." Sternly Luvia cut her off, then raised her cup for a long drink. When she set it down again, her brow softened. "If you're so very attached to your pacifism, then come to London."

The crossed arms she received in response did not surprise her. It was not the first time she had suggested it.

"And deal with Bartholemoi?" Rin waved a dismissive hand. "No thanks. I hear he took after his mother when it comes to our kind."

"Then at least Turku," Luvia persisted. "Somewhere I can keep an eye on you."

"And benefit from bloodshed done on my behalf." Fragile wisps rose from the tea cooling in front of Rin, entirely forgotten as the Apostle's shoulders slumped. "Not personally getting my hands dirty won't make them any less tainted."

"That is the way of the world." Luvia absently patted her curls. "Compassion is fine in doses, but idealism only brings trouble. You know that."

"Yeah… I do."

Rin's fingers briefly traced around her neck, and Luvia felt an answering throb in her own. Even if she has arrived at the square too late to witness the gruesome event, she had visited its shadows countless times in her nightmares.

The shudder ran like ice down her spine. Some of it must have shown on her face despite her best efforts, for there was a flash of concern in Rin's eyes as she looked the blonde over.

A few tense moments passed.

"Okay, fine. A lady knows when to concede," said Rin quietly, spreading her hands. "If it ever becomes too much… I'll take you up on that invitation."

Luvia let out a breath she had not even realized she had been holding. "Good."

"And now that the tea's gone quite cold, I'll go make a fresh pot." The other Apostle rose and offered Luvia a shaky smile, one that she tentatively returned.

Cups and saucers duly gathered up, Rin turned for the hallway. Luvia watched her until the raven-black hair fluttered out of view, then let her shoulders drop in relief. If it hadn't been the full result she wanted—her charge immediately packing her bags to leave with her—it was still more than she had expected. As tempting as it was to push a little harder, she knew from experience that it would only draw out Rin's stubborn streak and hurt her own cause.

Instead, she got up to stretch her legs and spent an amusing few minutes perusing the shelf of Japanese romance novels that her host had forgotten to hide before her visit. Her keen hearing let her resume her seat before Rin returned with the tray, but not before she had memorized a few titles to tease the woman with later.

Silence stretched as Rin poured out fresh cups, but a more comfortable one. Now that Luvia had gotten the unpleasantness out of the way, she was free to enjoy the next hour or so before duty demanded she make her way back to Edelfelt affairs. Her companion seemed to sense as much, and some of the tension eased from her shoulders too.

"Well," said Rin at last, refilling both their cups and measuring out sugar. "Since you had the bad taste to bring up London, you might as well give me the news from the vipers' nest."

"Why do you ask, when you just said you won't accompany me back?" asked Luvia, a little more spitefully than she had intended.

Rin tilted her head. "You're the one telling me I need to keep a finger on danger's pulse, right? Keeping on top of things can only help. Go on, spill."

Sighing, Luvia decided to indulge her, nevermind that she did so far too often. She went over recent events at the Clocktower; the appointment of Nigel Ashton to the Department of Zoology, the news of which her audience greeted with a snort of derision; the tremor in Albion's claw that had the Archeologists sweating for weeks; the latest round of squabbles between the Barthomeloi and Trambelio factions.

Rin made a good audience, listening attentively and asking questions in all the right places. But it was clear that as always—

"And they've sucked the Edelfelt into this, have they?"

— her real interest lay elsewhere.

"They have certainly tried to," answered Luvia, fingering her cup. "But it takes more than a few trinkets to spark our interest."

Inevitably, the other Apostle steered these conversations towards Luvia herself. Not just how she fit into various events and disputes, but far more personal questions.

"You hired _Flat's_ daughter?!"

"And why ever not? She is a charming young lady."

About Luvia's own research, and the contracts and people she was associating herself with. How her nephew Tauno, the Edelfelt heir apparent, was faring. The rare missions she undertook personally when her clan had bitten off more than it could chew, which made Rin's mouth twist even as she accepted them as necessities. Everything down to such details as what the blonde Apostle had for breakfast that day, though Rin disguised it as needling her about feeding fat cow tits.

Rin never failed to ask these things, even when Luvia visited during her foulest moods. In the early years of their arrangement, she had been sharp in her interrogations about family alliances and successors, even Luvia's own servants. Butlers especially, perhaps understandably give a… certain object of once mutual affection.

That jealousy had faded over time, as the passing years made it undeniable that they belonged to each other. Now there was honest curiosity in Rin's questions, and more than a little concern. Presumptuous of her, but touching.

Eventually the conversation circled back to Tauno and the stack of marriage offers sitting on his desk.

"But from everything you've told me, he's got eyes only for that Richter girl," said Rin.

"He is fond of her, true," sighed Luvia over her cup. "But he is also aware that her bloodline scarcely dates back from before the Descent."

"And the family has expectations, of course." Rin tapped her fingers angrily on the table. "Magi really are the worst. The world was _turned on its head_ , and that's still all we think about. Bloodlines and prestige and politics…"

"That is what gives one the power to change things they cannot bear."

"Maybe. And sometimes, it's just another trap they close around themselves." Rin's next sip of tea was downright aggressive. "That's why that idiot Enforcer came, you know. To recapture her family's legacy, even if it meant dancing with death. Stupid, _stupid_ … who would even thank her for it?"

"Yes," said the Edelfelt matriarch. "It's all very familiar, isn't it?"

Rin visibly flinched, then plastered on a bored expression. "I can't argue with that. The annals of magecraft are full of that kind of sob story." She looked at the drained teacups. "Here, I'll go fetch us some snacks."

Ignoring the other's sudden bustle, Luvia looked at the compass on the shelf, then to Rin's pocket and the pink ribbon she knew lay nestled inside it.

"Eternity is a long time to punish yourself for somebody else's sins, Rin," she said gently.

The tray rattled to the table. Rin's mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times before she glowered.

"Not this again!" she snapped. "It's not a punishment, it's a _choice_. One I went into with eyes wide open."

"And one that you choose freely?" asked Luvia drily, already picturing the shutters of the woman's face closing up as tightly as the ones placed over her windows.

But instead of deflecting, or even stomping away as she had on one memorable occasion, Rin gripped the table edge, her knuckles white.

"Yes… no.." she sighed, then slumped into her chair. "I couldn't let the Tohsaka line's purpose just fade away." Her fingers dug hard into her forearms. "Not after everything that was entrusted to me. You understand."

Luvia nodded. She did.

"But the idea of an heir… having a child… I couldn't." The other's head dipped down, black hair falling like a curtain to hide her face. "Not after what happened to Sakura."

A few uncomfortable heartbeats passed. Luvia couldn't help but stare at Rin, a little stunned at the words spilling out. All things that she had already guessed, but thought so painful they would remain unspoken. The business with Owain must have badly rattled Rin under her mask of indifference.

_Or perhaps the simple wear of the lonely cage she's built around herself._

"This is fine," said the other Apostle after a moment, still staring at her lap. "It lets me carry on Nagato's legacy and fulfill my responsibilities, without imposing that burden on another generation—someone who didn't sign up for it. That's all."

There was a small reddish-brown spot in the wood of the table, a knot that hadn't quite been sanded out. Luvia stared at it as she tried not to picture Tauno's green eyes and widening smile every time she swept into his office. He was still young and enamoured of magecraft's possibilities. How would he greet her fifty years from now, with its tarnish on his soul?

It was a long time before either Apostle spoke again. Perhaps it was fitting that Rin was the one to eventually clear her throat.

"Speaking of legacies and burdens… have you heard anything from that sadistic old scoundrel?"

"Such a way to refer to our old mentor, if not entirely unearned," said Luvia with a small smile, before it dropped away. "No, I have heard nothing from Zelretch. It is honestly rather a relief."

She met Rin's arched eyebrows with a shrug.

"If we were truly terrible, he would have intervened. But he has only vanished, which means we are merely disappointments."

The other Apostle gave a tight nod. "With so many parallel worlds to work with, he can afford to do that. If one version of his students isn't up to snuff, he can just shift his attention to another." Her eyes strayed over the crystals and gems laid out on the shelves. "No doubt somewhere, there's a Tohsaka Rin who did everything right. She rescued the lesser grail and won the War, saved her sister, married happily and guided her children right."

Rin's fingers tightened around the table edge. "I think I hate her."

"I am sure the feeling would be mutual," observed Luvia, trying to keep her voice light.

"Yes," said Rin. "But that wouldn't be so bad. Just so long as she doesn't pity me."

She gave Luvia a pointed look.

The blonde only smiled at her. "I never feel sorry for you, Rin. Fate is what you make of it, and as you always remind me, you made your choices."

"Choices, huh," murmured Rin, tilting her head as crimson eyes considered her patron. "So you don't regret following me down this path?"

Luvia folded her hands under her chin. "The Edelfelt are a proud lineage, among the highest echelons of modern magecraft—do not roll your eyes, Rin, you know I speak true—and also among the fiercest. While that hunter's blood is invaluable in our line of work, it also makes our family prone to excess. As such—"

"—it's your responsibility to make sure they don't get out of hand," interrupted the other Apostle, idly tapping her cup. "So you've said, many times."

"And yet you never tire of asking the question."

Rin looked at her for a long moment, mouth twitching as if biting back words piled on her tongue. A sinking feeling settled in Luvia's stomach, even as her heart beat a little faster in her chest.

Then to both her relief and disappointment, her charge shrugged and glanced at the shelves again. "Do you ever wonder where your other selves ended up?"

"Naturally."

"Hah. As expected of a narcissist," said Rin with a fond little quirk of lips. "And… which of them would you hate the most?"

"Ohohoho! Impossible, impossible!" laughed Luvia. "I am _always_ splendid."

Rin shook her head in exasperation, but did not push any further— there was no call for it, when they both knew it was a lie. Luvia did not need Reinforced eyes to spot the ravenous wolf that grinned at her from the mirror on particularly bad days.

There were more and more bad days of late.

Rin's hand slid halfway across the table, almost brushing Luvia's, before she seemed to catch herself and pulled it back. Coughing, she wrapped her fingers around her empty cup instead.

"Seriously though," she grumbled, "it's okay to admit it's tiring you out."

_I'm worried about you_. The words hung heavy as lead in the air between them.

Luvia's hands slid down into her lap, out of view, before clenching into fists. She had come here to make her fellow Apostle see reason, not to throw her own burdens on Rin's shoulders. She would _not_.

"I assure you that I am hale and hearty," she said instead, capping the statement with her brightest smile.

Rin's answering look could have drilled rock.

A few breaths passed before Luvia surrendered, with a drop of shoulders that would have drawn harsh correction from her childhood tutor.

"Very well, you merciless hound," she said, some of her turmoil bubbling up as irritation. "Then… yes. I admit that my responsibilities are perhaps wearing at times."

"Of course they are," scoffed Rin, with an underlying sympathy that made Luvia's fingers curl. "I only see you once a month, and I can tell it's eating you up. You really need to—"

"There is no other choice, Rin," she interrupted, raising a hand to ward off protest. "I am in earnest when I speak of excesses. I trust you remember Mikhael."

The other woman's eyes darkened until they were almost maroon at the mention of Luvia's late uncle, and the blonde knew she was thinking of snow falling on ruined houses. Oh yes, Rin remembered.

"Dear Tauno can guide a flock," she said, ignoring the knot forming in her stomach, "but it takes a monster to keep the wolves in check."

"You're not a monster," said Rin sharply, then huffed in response to the blonde's arched eyebrows. "Okay, fine, a Dead Apostle is about as monstrous as you can get. But that's not what I meant."

Pink dusted the woman's cheeks as she shifted in her chair so she was facing away from the blonde. Then she murmured, so quietly Luvia barely caught it, "You're one of the kindest people I ever met."

The knot in Luvia's stomach pulled tight, feeling almost like a physical blow. The faces of all the people she had ruthlessly killed, or arranged to have killed, swam before her eyes. Staring at Rin's defensive tilt of chin and crossed arms, she wondered that the woman could think her kind.

Then the phantom ache ringed her throat again, and Luvia understood.

_The world is full of hard choices. Sometimes you must be ruthless to be kind._

Crimson eyes abruptly snapped around to glare at her. " _Too_ kind, putting yourself through hell for the sake of others."

Luvia met the glare with a little shrug. "I saw what happened when you came back from Khencela. From the desert. You would not have done well alone."

"You idiot." Rin's voice was low and harsh.

"I beg your pardon?" said the blonde automatically, unable to muster up any indignation. Not with the other woman's eyes dark with sorrow.

Those eyes caught Luvia's own and held them. "Eternity is a long time to suffer for love."

Luvia's throat suddenly felt impossibly thick, the blood pounding in her ears.

"My, my," she said as calmly as she could manage, "Caught on at last, have you?"

Rin snorted, even as she looked away from the blonde. "I figured it out over twenty years ago. I was just too much of a coward to do anything about it."

"Twenty years," repeated Luvia, then forced a smirk to her lips. "Meaning more than ten years of fumbling about. A poor showing, Tohsaka Rin!"

The vivid red spreading over Rin's face was _adorable_. Even after all these years, the woman couldn't help herself. Luvia's smirk became full laughter, rich and satisfying against the hand pressed over her mouth.

_Delightful_. Delightful, and something the wolf in her mirror couldn't tear away. She wouldn't allow it.

"How was I supposed to know?" growled Rin as she pointed an accusing finger. "You never passed up an opportunity to snipe at me!"

Still chuckling, Luvia steepled her fingers and smiled. "Whatever are you referring to, Rin? I have always looked after you."

A thump on the table set the cups to rattling. "You have _got_ to be kidding me!" shouted Rin, flush deepening in her anger. "You were _insufferable_! Barbarian, commoner, second-rate—"

"Do not forget 'flat-chested monkey'," smirked Luvia.

"As if I could!" raged her once-rival. "You made damn sure of _that_ , shaking your cow tits around."

"Mm. We both know you heard far worse." The blonde waved a hand. "And you were the heir of Tohsaka. Surely you weren't surprised to encounter a bit of justified hostility from the nobility your family transgressed against."

"We're _not_ revisiting the Third War again!" shouted Rin. "And justified hostility, my _ass_! You ripped up my reference letter! You tried to have me expelled! You kept pestering that… that boy every time he dropped by the campus!" Then, with a cry of outrage that was almost a shriek, "And that video conference call with Shishigou, you _shrew!_ "

"Oh my. Quite the impressive memory you have, at least for grudges," she laughed. "Not a bad quality in a magus, of course—"

"Luvia, you—!"

"Come now, Rin." Her gentle tone bought her the other's begrudging silence. "You were the heiress of a minor family, alone and friendless in an institution that is unkind to such. If you couldn't at least parry my little barbs, then the Clocktower would have devoured you whole."

Rin bit her lip, but didn't argue. They both knew that had Luvia truly meant her ill, she would have sent assassins. Many others had in the years that followed.

"And having my attention on you spared you from considerable grief, as you have since learned," continued the blonde.

"You mean nobody wanted to pry the hyena's toy from its jaws," grumbled Rin, then drew herself up to her full height. "Fine, but that still doesn't explain the goddamn suplexes!"

"Oh, that was for fun," grinned Luvia. "Finding a suitable opponent in those stuffy old halls was _such_ a chore. Can you blame me for provoking you to the ring as often as I could?" She waved a finger. "Nor was I the only one issuing challenges."

A reluctant smile flitted over Rin's lips. "We did play around a lot, didn't we?"

Before she could think better of it, the topaz slipped from Luvia's sleeve into her palm. "Then how about another round, for old times' sake?"

The other Apostle looked wistfully at the gemstone and all it implied, clearly tempted. Then to Luvia's disappointment, she shook her head.

"We'd better not. There's no way we wouldn't smash the house to rubble, and it's far too much of a pain to rebuild it."

Luvia almost protested that they could put up protective wards, but past experience told her they wouldn't stand up to either Apostles' reinforced blows. Besides, she was more interested in the pensive look on Rin's face.

"So now that the state of affairs has been laid bare, what will you do?" she asked.

She had expected her heart to hammer her chest to pieces with that question, but instead she felt curiously light as she watched the blush return to Rin's cheeks. Even if nothing changed, even if the other Apostle was too mired in self-hatred to return her affections, having things out in the open lifted a great weight from her shoulders.

"Keep taking you for everything you're worth," smirked Rin at last.

"Ohohoho! How lacking in imagination!" Luvia waved a hand to encompass the library's wooden shelves. "Then you will need to increase your demands from the merely unreasonable to the exorbitant. Anything less, and you truly will need eternity to drain my coffers."

Rin no longer grimaced at the blonde's distinctive laughter, except on the rare occasions she remembered to. But it was unusual for her to join in, a softer laugh that rang like music in Luvia's ears.

"A call to arms!" declared Rin once their mirth had subsided a bit. She gestured towards the far wall. "I'll start by putting in a steam bath. Marble floors, gold faucets, the works."

"Please do," smiled Luvia. "Between that and the tea, these little visits could become positively refreshing."

This time when Rin reached across the table, she let her fingers fold over the blonde's. "Hey Luvia?... I'm glad you're here. Even if you're still infuriating, and I'm… well, I'm not sure what the hell we are."

Turning up her palm, Luvia interlocked their fingers even as her other hand wrung unseen in her lap. A teasing Rin, or an angry one, she knew how to deal with. Talking with this quiet, sincere Rin was like spotting a shy deer between the trees. It made her heart catch in a way that wasn't entirely comfortable.

So she responded according to their well-worn patterns. "What we are is quite simple. A beautiful and gracious patron, and her uncouth boor of a protégé."

"Just for that, I'm going to start using double the gems," said Rin with a poisoned-honey smile, though not her best. The sweetness sounded a little too sincere.

"Have a care not to stretch my patience thin," warned Luvia good-humouredly. "There aren't many that would put up with you."

Rin merely waved a hand, looking more than a little smug. Luvia decided it was a good look on her.

A few minutes passed in comfortable conversation before the other Apostle briefly excused herself to carry the used porcelain to the kitchen. When she came back and took her seat again, some of the shadow had returned to her face.

"Hey, Luvia?"

"Another confession, is it? Do go on."

Rin's lips briefly twitched, then settled into a grim line. "... Luvia, do you think there's a hell?" Her hand touched the outside of her pocket. "I've done so many terrible things."

Pushing back the ache in her own chest, Luvia favoured her with a smile. "If there is, then we shall share tea in their parlour room. I do hope they have a decent blend."

"Luvia, I'm serious!"

"So am I," she said and gave Rin's hand a reassuring pat.

And felt her heart flutter when Rin caught her fingers again, squeezing them lightly before letting them go.

She could have stayed there for hours, drinking in the other woman's presence like wine, if not for the intrusive ticking of the clock hands. Even so, it took considerable willpower to rise from her seat.

"I must be on my way. If I do not return to London by Tuesday, I fear the Trambelio may do something ill-advised."

She had just retrieved the briefcase and pivoted towards the door when slender arms wrapped around her waist and hugged her. She could feel the side of Rin's cheek pressed against her shoulder, the warmth of her body on her back, and the whispering sigh lost among golden curls.

"... thank you."

Luvia could have asked what Rin meant, for there were a thousand different answers. For supporting the work that defined her, for the gems and supplies she brought each month without fail. For supporting her over the years, protecting her from political maneuverings and hidden enemies. For the cheer of her company, for the sharp tongue that needled her to draw her out from her depressive fugues. For becoming a Dead Apostle with her, so that she wouldn't walk the midnight path alone.

But Luvia understood. She put the briefcase down and reached to cover the hands locked over her stomach with her own.

"You're very welcome."

What Rin really meant was — _thank you for not breaking my heart_.

A shared pain, the final thread to bind them together after years of intertwined rivalry and friendship. A pain that cracked their hearts long before the gallows, when they had opened the letters left at their respective doors. When Luvia had crossed London in record time to appear at Rin's door, and the girl had let her in without a word.

The wounds faded with time, but the thread held tight. A beacon of warmth on cold nights, as warm as the arms enclosing her.

"Beautiful," Rin murmured into the crook of her neck. "I always thought so."

"Did you finally acknowledge my superior charm, Rin?" said Luvia teasingly, even as she felt her heart catch again. "Splendid! The perfect thing to carry with me throughout eternity—your admission of defeat."

"You're insufferable," the other growled. "And you managed to ruin the mood entirely. This is why I hate you."

"You love me," corrected Luvia, confident it was so and yet needing to say it aloud.

"I can do both."

A sigh of fond exasperation escaped the blonde's lips. How very like Rin, to confirm and deny in the same breath. But the nuzzle of the woman's cheek against her own spoke truer than her words ever did.

The clock ticked on. Luvia moved to disengage. She gently slid her hands up Rin's forearms to coax them loose, only for the other woman to tighten her grip.

"Hey. Can we stay like this?" said Rin quietly, closing her eyes. "Just for a bit. Don't misunderstand."

"Very well." Gently shifting in the other's embrace, Luvia moved so they were facing each other. Her arms instinctually slid up to hold the woman in place. "And to spare both our prides, I promise that we shall never speak of it again."

Rin gave a small laugh. "Good. I'll hold you to that."

They stayed in the unexpected but not unwelcome embrace, enticed by shared heat and the simple comfort of the other's presence. This was the closest Luvia had been to another person in years, ever since Tauno grew old enough to be appropriately wary. She didn't like to think how long it had been for Rin.

Words whispered against her skin, so soft that she felt rather than heard them. It took a moment to realize Rin had asked her a question.

"Pardon?" said Luvia, a little annoyed with herself that she had not caught it. She really had let herself get carried away. How ungracious, even if she didn't regret it for a moment.

Rin hesitated, then abruptly let go and took a quick step back.

"No, nevermind," she said, brushing her raven hair back over one shoulder as she stepped past Luvia into the hallway. "But since you came all this, I suppose you might as well stay for dinner. I'll make vendance fricassée and _pulla_ rolls."

Raising an eyebrow, Luvia followed her to the doorway. "You keep the ingredients in stock? How nostalgic of you. I did not realize you looked back on our time in Helsinki so fondly."

Rin's cheeks practically glowed. "It's _not_ because of that godawful city, it's… tch!" She looked away. "If you're going to make stupid comments, then you can just go hungry."

Luvia caught her hand. "Dinner sounds delightful."

If not as delightful as the way Rin's eyes brightened, a smile tucked in the corner of her mouth.

"What about the Trambelio?" she asked.

"Oh, you are far more troublesome," said Luvia as she retrieved the briefcase. "Clearly my corrective hand is needed here a little longer."

Rin pulled a face at her, but her step was noticeably lighter as she disappeared towards the kitchen.

Left alone in the library, Luvia absently patted her curls and sighed. It was painful, returning here month after month. The house was as quiet as a grave and felt like one, closed tight against light and company.

_I have endured this for thirty years. I can endure it for thirty more_. _And after that…_

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

_One year at a time, one step at a time. That is how one makes things bearable._

* * *

Rin stepped down from the automata-drawn carriage onto the paved pathway. It was easier to breathe here in front of the manor, surrounded by green lawns and statuary instead of the loud streets of an unfamiliar London. Districts and riverways had shifted in the tumultuous years since the Descent, and a sheen of electric blue tinted the fog that rolled over copper-lined buildings.

And yet Luvia seemed entirely at home here. But that wasn't really a surprise, Rin reflected as she hefted her bag and strode down the path towards stately white columns topped with shining metal talons. The Edelfelt heiress-turned-matriarch had always been good at adapting, at moving forward. Not even becoming a Dead Apostle had changed that. She moved on into the future, while Rin stood still.

But she kept a hand outstretched. An insufferable smirk too, but that didn't make the fingers any less warm.

It had taken hours of pacing through her empty house, wearing holes in her carpets, for Rin to come to this decision. Now confidence ebbed with each click of her heels against stone, however she gritted her teeth. The control she craved— _needed_ , pursued all her life—was slipping out of her fingers. She felt rudderless, adrift.

_What am I doing here_?

Setting her jaw, Rin walked on anyway. She wanted to believe in the promise of that upturned palm.

The bounded field rippled over her as she approached the front door, cold with unseen snow, but did not stop her. Surely that was a good sign?

_She wants you to come to London_. _She said so herself._

But that could mean many different things. Taking up a house nearby where the Edelfelt family could keep an eye on its investment. Embroiling herself in service to the Clocktower's various factions. Perhaps even simple company, kept at a more comfortable distance.

Greed pushed Rin to want far more. No wonder she had stumbled down the path to undeath, always reaching for things she shouldn't wish for.

_She didn't say no_.

A humourless laugh left Rin's throat as she lifted the heavy iron knocker and banged it against the door.

_Only because she didn't hear the question, and you didn't dare repeat it._ She gripped the strap of her bag. _So make up for it now, Rin. What's the worst that can happen?_

Many things, actually. An aimed shot through the heart from a loyal servant wasn't even close to the worst possibility. Still she waited on the portico, straining her ears in anticipation of footsteps.

_This may be a mistake, but I don't care. I want to see her. Even knowing we have centuries, even knowing she always comes back… I'm tired of waiting._

The door swung open to reveal Luvia herself, looking resplendent in a blue dress and the tumbling golden drills Rin had mocked and admired in equal measure. Her scarlet eyes lit up in pleasure, a contrast with the faint crease of confusion in her brow.

"Good afternoon, Rin," she said with a polite incline of her head. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"Hello," nodded Rin, resisting the urge to run a hand through her hair.

_Might as well be honest. She's got an awful knack for seeing through excuses and mocking you for them._

"I hope you're ready to put that excessive money to use," her mouth said instead. "You complain so much about my house that I figured I'd come stay here to shut you up. Feel free to thank me."

_So much for honesty._

Well-bred as she was, Luvia didn't roll her eyes. "Oh? And what about your research?" she asked with a knowing smirk. "Did you not claim time and time again that Halkirk's leyline patterns were ideal for your experiments?"

Rin shrugged. "I wasn't getting anywhere with them anyway."

They both knew that wasn't true. They grinned at each other anyway.

"Then I suppose you had better come inside," she said, sweeping back into the manor and gesturing for Rin to follow. "I will call Järvinen for your bags."

"The family will be pleased, I'm sure," said Rin drily.

"How fortunate that their opinions do not matter next to my own. And I for one am _thrilled_."

Luvia beamed at her, the shameless woman, and Rin's breath caught in her throat. Even after everything they had suffered through, even under crimson eyes instead of clever amber, there was the smile that could outshine the sun. For the first time in years, she felt warm.

Still she hesitated on the threshold, but only for a single beat of her dead heart. The door closed behind them.

* * *

Eternity is a long time for regrets.

But the right company makes it more than worth bearing.


End file.
